


Shelter from the Storm

by kat_fanfic



Category: Degrassi the Next Generation, Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: AU after "Hypnotize", Angst, Boys Kissing, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Heartbreak, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Triles Breakup, Statutory Rape, Tristan needs a hug, in case that wasn't clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: The words hit Tristan like a punch. The smile that had been on his face vanished, and suddenly, lying half-naked in his teacher’s bed with the evidence of their shared passion cooling on his belly didn’t feel all warm and afterglow-y anymore.





	Shelter from the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Fell even deeper into this Triles-shaped hole, oops. Stole a few lines from "Thunderstruck", you'll probably recognise them.

“You need to go home.”

The words hit Tristan like a punch. The smile that had been on his face vanished, and suddenly, lying half-naked in his teacher’s bed with the evidence of their shared passion cooling on his belly didn’t feel all warm and afterglow-y anymore. “What?” Tristan asked, slowly sitting up. He grimaced and used a corner of the sheets to wipe himself clean. “Why? I’ve got no curfew tonight. My parents think I’m at Maya’s--”

Grant pulled a face. “Christ.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, this obviously was a mistake. You’re a nice enough kid, Tristan, but there’s just no way this is ever going to work out.”

“Why not?” There was no way he was giving up that easily. “We like each other, don’t we? And it isn’t like my age is news to you. It didn’t stop you from doing this.” He gestured towards himself, to where he knew hickeys to bloom on his throat and chest, visible signs of what they had been up to only a few minutes ago. 

Grant sighed, and there was something like regret coloring his expression. “I know, and that was wrong. You tempted me, Tristan, made me want things I shouldn’t.”

A lump was forming in Tristan’s throat. “So, what, it’s my fault that you couldn’t keep it in your pants?”

“Don’t forget that it was you showing up on my door tonight, hell bent on seducing me. It’s not like I invited you.”

Tristan reeled back, hurt. “I thought you wanted me to come.”

“Look, I think we can both agree that we had fun together, yes? But we’re not in love, Tristan, and judging by your performance, it’s not as if this,” he gestured between them, “was anything special for you.”

Tristan gasped, and for a heart stopping moment, he couldn’t breathe for the pain blooming in his chest. He could barely think past the fact that Grant Yates had just basically called him a slut. “Is that what you think of me?” 

Grant scrubbed a hand over his face. “It doesn’t matter what I think.” He sighed. “See, this is why I asked you if you thought you were mature enough for this.” 

“Mature enough for what?” Tristan asked, incredulous. “Getting dumped right after you had your way with me?” 

“I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore.” Grant said, tone final. “Just go, please.”

Biting back threatening tears, Tristan hung on to his dignity by a thread. No way was he going to let Grant see how much the casual disregard was hurting him. 

He got dressed slowly, deliberately taking his time, and when he was done, he raised his chin and met Grant’s gaze with a defiant stare. “I have no way of getting home. Busses aren’t running anymore.”

“Right.” Grant ran a hand through his hair, then he made a grab for his pants. Slipping his wallet out of the back pocket, he fished out a fifty and held it out towards him. “Take a cab then, this should be more than enough to cover the fare.”

Staring at the crumpled bill as if it was going to bite him, Tristan felt like throwing up. There was no warmth in the other man’s expression, nothing that indicated their physical connection had meant anything to him at all.

Biting his lower lip to keep it from trembling, Tristan pushed the outstretched hand away with more force than necessary. “Keep your money,” he spat out, channeling the hurt into fury. “I don’t need it, and I certainly don’t need anything else from you ever again.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Tristan.”

“Sure,” he scoffed, sarcasm dripping off his tone. “Because that’s what’s happening here. Just me being dramatic. Got it.” He grabbed his bag and turned to go. He was almost out the door, when he paused. “And just for the record,” he said, his voice full of hurt he couldn’t hide anymore. “You actually were my first.” He didn’t wait for a reaction. Pulling the door shut behind him, he walked away from Grant Yates and the greatest heartbreak of his young life.

He didn’t get very far. 

As soon as the fresh night air hit the wet tear streaks on his face, he felt like his insides were crumbling. A sob broke free of this throat and he came to a stumbling halt, mere meters from Grant’s apartment building. 

He hadn’t lied when he’d said that he had no idea on how to get home, and looking around the dark and empty street now, he had never felt so alone in his life. Hands shaking, he pulled out his phone. Staring at it blindly for a long moment, his thumb hovered over his contacts. 

There was no way he was going to call his parents. The fighting had gotten so bad lately, that all he could think about was fleeing the house whenever he could. The last thing he wanted was to become a convenient target for their pent-up frustration. 

And if he was being honest with himself, in this moment, feeling like he did, there was only one person he could bring himself to call anyway.

It rang three times, before Miles’ amused voice rang out. “Hey, Tris. Super secret plan for tonight fall through?”

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the steady flow of tears. “Something like that,” he answered faintly. 

“Tris?” Miles sounded concerned now. “Did something happen? You sound weird.”

Tristan sniffed, and wiped the wetness from his face. “I’m fine,” he lied, unconvincing even to his own ears. “I, I just…” The sob broke free then, an almost violent shudder of grief that overwhelmed him and made him almost drop the phone.

“-an. Tristan, come on, talk to me. What’s going on?” The almost desperate quality to Miles’ voice finally broke through Tristan’s misery. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Forget I called, okay? I’m just being my usual dramatic self.” The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him. 

“No,” Miles’ response was definite. “No way. I’m not letting you just blow this off, Tris. Not when you call me in the middle of the night, sounding like someone just ran over your puppy.” There was a rustle on the other end of the line. “Can you tell me where you are?”

Blanking on the street name, Tristan shook his head. “Not really.” He was beginning to hyperventilate, the reality of his situation sinking in. “There’s a bus station, but it’s hours till the next one’s coming…” His heart was hammering in his chest, threatening to burst out of it. 

“Tristan?”

Panic flooded his system. Was he having another heart attack? Right here in the street in front of his teacher’s house? “I can’t breathe,” he gasped, clutching the phone to his ear in desperation.

“Tris, I need you to listen to what I’m saying, can you do that?”

He stuttered out an affirmative.

“That’s great.” He had never heard Miles sound so calm, so reassuring. “Take a deep breath. Just focus on that, nothing else matters.” 

He tried, he really did, but it was as if a log was sitting on his chest. “I c-can’t,” he stammered, clawing at the collar of his shirt.

Miles’ voice was like an anchor, pulling him back from the abyss. “It’s easy, just breathe in, and out, just like I’m doing. In,” he noisily sucked in the air, “and out. See? Easy.” He did it a few times, and with each repetition, Tristan felt that he could follow him along better and better, until his heart calmed down and he didn’t feel quite as faint anymore.

“Okay,” he murmured, “okay.”

“Feel better?”

Nodding, he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even know-”

“Still not doing that,” Miles interrupted him gently. “I want you to call yourself a cab. Tell them to come to the bus station.”

Tristan was already shaking his head. “I don’t have any cash on me.” Maybe he should have taken Grant’s money, but even the thought of touching those crumpled bills had made him feel dirty.

“Don’t worry about it. Give the cabbie my address and I’ll meet you upfront to pay them.”

The unhesitant way Miles was taking care of him brought tears to Tristan’s eyes again. “Miles,” he tried to protest. “You don’t have to-”

“I know, Tris,” he was interrupted again. “But I want to, okay? You’re one of my best friends and I need to make sure you’re alright. So, please, just do it, okay?”

“Okay,” he murmured. 

“Good. Text me when you’re on your way, yeah?”

Tristan murmured an affirmative before ending the call. It took less than three minutes for the cab to come pick him up, and so it was only half an hour later that he arrived at the Hollingsworth mansion. 

As promised, Miles waited right out front. He looked adorably sleep-mussed, as if he’d gotten out of bed for this.

Tristan climbed out of the cab while Miles paid the driver. The control he’d gained during the drive was slowly but surely deserting him, and the dull throbbing pain in his gut was starting to overwhelm him. He really had thought that what he’d had with Mr. Yates was a real romance, a connection that went deeper than just the physical. 

And now, standing here in Miles’ driveway of all people, he felt like all his hopes and dreams were crumbling to dust. They weren’t big dreams, he didn’t think. Nothing fancy. All he’d ever wanted was for somebody to love him for who he was, to have a high school romance like all of his friends were having.

So when Miles turned to him with a concerned smile, asking “You alright?”, he just shook his head, looking up into the night sky to keep bitter tears from falling. 

“Tristan.” Miles had stepped closer until he was right in front of him. “I kind of need to know what happened. Did somebody,” he paused to take a deep breath, looking pained. “Tris, did somebody hurt you?”

The laugh that bubbled out of him had little to do with humor. “Not, physically,” he replied, choking the words out to get them out of the way. “Just got my heart broken, but what else is new, right?”

Miles frowned. “I didn’t know you were dating anybody.”

Using his sleeve to wipe the wetness from his face, Tristan huffed, “Yeah, well, you weren’t supposed to.” 

“So it was a secret relationship?” Miles inferred. “And tonight it all came to a head, and what, he broke up with you?”

“More like rode me hard and put me away wet.” The words were out before he could stop them. He sucked in a horrified breath, turning his back on Miles before he could see the expression on the other boy’s face. There was no way he would be able to face his friend now, not with what he’d just revealed. 

“Hell,” he heard, and then Miles’ arms were around him, cradling him into a firm embrace. “I’m so sorry, Tris. Men are shitheads, who don’t know a good thing even when it’s right in front of them.”

“I’m a slut.” It was like his brain-to-mouth filter had been surgically removed. 

“No!” Miles’ reply was fierce and instantaneous. “You are definitely not a slut, Tristan, what the hell? I don’t care what happened, or what that waste-of-space told you, but there’s no way I’m letting you say something like that about my best friend. Because it’s not true.” He gave Tristan a little shake. “Got it?” 

Tristan gave a hesitant nod, not quite convinced but willing to let it go. “I thought Winston was your best friend.”

“Sure, but Winston is my best straight friend.” He could practically hear Miles grinning. “You’re my best gay friend.”

That startled a laugh out of Tristan, and he peeked up at Miles, even as he snuggled deeper into the warm, comforting hug. 

Finally, Miles pulled back a little, giving him a quick squeeze. “Come on, let’s get inside. I can feel the goosebumps even through your shirt.”

He was pulled forward, a gentle but insistent force leading him into the house, and before he knew it, Miles had him tucked into his own bed, curling up right beside him as if it was the most normal thing in the world for them to share sleeping quarters. 

“I feel like I’m doomed,” he finally whispered into the quiet.

Miles stirred, turning his head to look at him. “Doomed? How?”

“To be alone forever, to always be the one on the outside looking in.” 

“Is that what you think?” Miles propped himself up on his forearms, peering at Tristan. “That nobody loves you?”

“It sure doesn’t feel like there’s a lot of love in my life right now,” Tristan replied quietly. “My friends are constantly at each other’s throats, my parents barely even acknowledge me, and the one person I thought actually liked me…” He trailed off. There was a lump in his throat and he had to swallow a few times before he could continue. “I have worked so hard on myself, you know? I tried so hard to change, to become a better version of myself, but in the end? It didn’t make one bit of difference.”

Miles was shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know really how your life’s been before we met, and I’m the last person to say that a parents’ love always is unconditional. But you’re absolutely wrong about one thing.” He leaned forward until he was close enough that Tristan could feel the warmth of his breath. “You’re the most lovable guy I know, and I know for a fact that there is at least one person who would do anything for you, who likes everything about you, and who would be honored to be with you.” 

Tristan sucked in a stuttering breath. A wild hope was rising in him, but he immediately tried to squash it, too afraid of being wrong like he’d been so many times before. “I swear,” he said, voice shaking slightly, “if you say ‘Jesus loves you’ right now, I’m gonna-”

Miles surged forward then, his lips crashing into Tristan’s with gentle, insistent force and then they were kissing, chests pressed together so that they could feel each other’s racing heartbeats. 

Pulling back with an audible smack, Miles hovered over Tristan, a wide smile splitting his face. “Just in case it wasn’t clear,” he remarked with mock-sincerity. “I meant me. I’m the guy that likes you and would do basically anything for you.”

Tristan chuckled. “Obvi.”

Miles studied him, his smile dimming a bit. “So hey, listen, it’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same way about me. I mean, you just broke up with a guy and…” He looked gob smacked, as if a thought had only just occurred to him. “I’m probably the rebound, huh?” 

Tristan wasn’t about to let him feel like that for even a second. He sat up and put one hand on the side of Miles’ face, cradling it gently. “You’re so totally not.” he murmured. “Did you know that I totally fell for you in Paris? It never really went away, not even when you dated Maya. I wanted to be friends with you so bad, because that way I’d have you in my life even if there’d never be more between us. So, if you think about it,” he added, smiling at Miles, “technically, _he_ was the rebound.”

“Hah,” Miles crowed, stealing another quick kiss. “Take that, sucker.”

Laughing, Tristan shook his head. “You’re a loon,” he murmured, letting himself be pulled over on his side so that he could rest his head on Miles’ shoulder. Miles. His new, what, affair? Friend with kissing benefits? Boyfriend? 

It was only when Miles answered that he noticed that he’d asked the question out loud.  
“I don’t know,” he said, sounding as confused and overwhelmed as Tristan felt. “I just know that I feel good when I’m around you.”

Yeah, that sounded about right. “Likewise.”

“So, you think we can just, be? Like this? And figure things out as we go along?”

“Yeah,” Tristan murmured, exhaustion finally catching up to him. “We can do that.” 

He had almost drifted off, snuggled up to Miles and feeling all kinds of cozy when the other boy stirred against him. “One day, when you’re ready”, he whispered against his neck, his warm breath tickling Tristan’s skin, “we’re gonna talk about tonight, and I will ask you who it was that hurt you. And I hope that you will trust me enough to tell me then.”

Since he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to talk about his affair with their English teacher, Tristan only gave a noncommittal hum. He could only hope that this wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass later. 

For now, he let himself bask in the moment by putting every thought of Grant Yates out of his mind. Because this was Miles, _Miles_ , who had just confessed to having feelings for him and who was now snuggling him like he was his personal teddy-bear. 

The last thought he had before sleep claimed him was that life had just gotten interesting. He couldn’t wait.


End file.
